My Big Fat Secret
by Temari101
Summary: It was a secret Kyle had been forced to keep for a long time, and though he was good at what he did he still hated it and was embarrassed by it. Now, at the age of sixteen, his secret may finally come to light, and he has no idea what to do about it.
1. Chapter 1

Kyle's breath quickened as sweat dripped from the ends of his curly ginger hair and forehead, tracing lines down his red cheeks. "_Just a little longer,"_ he thought to himself as he lifted his right leg. _"Just a little longer and I can-"_

"Kyle Broflovski! What are you doing?" A familiar, and angry, woman's voice shouted, causing the boy to jump. He'd almost forgotten about the woman, having been concentrating so hard on his movements. He looked over at her, confusion and fear mixing themselves up inside of him. She only ever yelled at him when he screwed something up, or did something she didn't particularly approve of. "Come on boy! Lift that leg higher!"

"I'm a teenage boy, this is as high as my leg goes," Kyle shot back before lowering his leg back to its normal position next to his other leg.

"Bullshit! Two practises ago you were lifting that leg over your head!" Kyle's coach yelled at him, causing him to shrink into himself partly with shame and partly with guilt. Whenever his coach got mad she reminded him of his mother, and his mother wasn't someone you wanted mad at you. Just the way his mother's voice carried, and the words she used always made Kyle feel guilty for days whenever he made her mad. The same thing always happened whenever he managed to get his coach angry, which wasn't often. Kyle was her star pupil after all. "You're not suddenly going all teenage boy rebellion stage on me are you? Because if you are you can forget about me letting you into the competition! I don't want a teenage boy wrecking our chances at first place! And I'm sure you can imagine what your mother will say and think of you when she finds out her son isn't competing anymore!" That last sentence made Kyle flinch. He defiantly could thinking of many things his mother would say, and even do, to him when she found out he was kicked out of a competition for the first time in twelve years.

"I-I'm sorry, I'll try it again," Kyle stuttered out finally, taking a deep breath and a few steps back.

"Damn right you'll try it again! And you'll keep trying until you get it right! I don't care if you pass out from exhaustion, or if we're here until midnight! You're not leaving until that leg is up in the air! You've been doing this since you were four! It shouldn't be such a damn challenge!" his coach barked out, crossing her arms and watching him intently.

Kyle wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, and took a deep breath. Then he began his routine close to the end. He spread his arms out, got on his tip-toes, and took two quick and long steps forward. He jumped, moving his right leg out in front of him so that he landed softly on just his left foot. Then he put his arms out in front of him so that they created a circle, bent his right knee so that his foot just touched his left leg and began to spin. As he continued to spin he unbent his right leg slowly and began to raise it up in front of him. He opened his arms and, keeping them bent so that they now created a C shape, moved them out to his sides as his leg got higher. Once his right leg was high enough that his foot was over his head he stayed that way for one spin and then began to lower it quickly. When his leg was halfway back down he abruptly stopped spinning, and just as abruptly turned ever so slightly and jumped forward. He landed on his heels, with his arms in the air and his hands relaxed just above his head, and slid quickly down into the splits. He then lowered his arms elegantly out to his sides and bowed his head, signaling the end of his performance.


	2. Chapter 2

Kyle pushed himself from the splits into a sitting position easily, and then stood. He walked quickly over to the mirrored wall and grabbed his towel off of the warm up bar and wiped the sweat off of his face before turning to his coach. His coaches expression was hard to read, as it often was. He couldn't tell if he'd redeemed himself and earned himself the right to go home with what he thought was a flawless, and almost effortless, performance, or if she was still angry with him and would keep him here to do his performance six more times. And not just the ending of it like he'd just done, but the first two minutes of it as well.

"You're lucky I have other things to do tonight Broflovski, or I'd keep you another two hours," his coach said finally, letting her arms fall to her sides. "Now go change and get out of here." Kyle nodded, not needing to be told twice and hurriedly left to the locker room.

The boy's locker room was a small one and always felt almost eerily empty to Kyle. The lockers in it were half lockers and there were only about twenty of them. Against one wall was a long mirror with a counter in front of it, and at the opposite side of the room was a door that lead to a small bathroom with only a sink and a toilet. And in the middle of the room was a long wooden bench screwed to the floor that barely had enough room to walk around.

Kyle walked quickly over to his locker, just missing banging his leg on the bench, and opened it without having to put in the code for the lock. He never closed his locked fully, because in the twelve years he'd had it he'd been the only boy using the locker room. He wasn't even sure he remembered the code for his lock anymore.

After pulling out his shirt, pants, boxers, shoes, socks, backpack, and jacket from his locker, Kyle slipped off his slippers and began to strip off his dark blue leotard and tossed it into his backpack. Next he pulled off his light blue tights, along with his little white briefs, and stuffed them into his bag as well. Then he quickly pulled on his boxers, dark blue skinny jeans, Terrance and Phillip shirt, slipped on his socks, sneakers, and orange jacket, and tossed his towel into the laundry bin by the door as he practically sprinted out of the room.

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you Kyle, just get changed at home!" Kyle's mom shouted as soon as he was out of the change room and in the hallway. She was standing there with her arms crosses, looking very impatient. It was almost like looking at, and listening to, an exact image of his coach. The only differences were that his mother was a little bigger and had red hair done up into an outdated style, instead of nice long black hair tied up into a ponytail. "You take way too long to get changed after practise and we always go straight home after you're done, there's no reason for you to be wasting time switching clothing when we could be on our way home! I come all the way out here to this ballet studio because you don't want anyone in South Park to know you're in ballet, the least you can do is just go straight to the car after class!"

"You come all the way out to this ballet studio because you're the one that wanted me in this stupid sport and I told you, when I was four! Four! That it was stupid and I didn't want to do it because my friends would laugh at me, and the only way you could get me to do it was if you brought me all the way out here and promised me my friends would never find out! And that deal still stands! So if you want me to go straight to the car after practise instead of changing you're going to have to come up with a new deal!" Kyle practically screamed at his mother before turning and storming off towards the car. He knew he would regret his outburst shortly, because his mother wouldn't stop lecturing him all the way home, but he was in a foul mood over the whole ballet thing and was due for an angry outburst. He was just glad it had been his mother that had pushed him over the edge so he had a legitimate reason for being angry, instead of blowing up on his brother for using up all the toothpaste, or one of his friends for bugging him during class, or something else equally as trivial and stupid.

One thing was for sure, everything Kyle had said to his mother was true, so he felt it wouldn't be fair if she lectured him on stating facts, but she could lecture him on the way he'd stated them. His mother had stuck him in ballet practically against his will at four years old. Kyle always thought it had something to do with her secretly wanting to be a ballet star when she was younger, and even now, but never having the chance to pursue that dream. Of course he was never totally one hundred percent sure about that fact because he was never interested enough, or brave enough, to actually ask his mom, but he always thought it was a good possibility.

It took Kyle's mom about a week to finally get him to agree to at least try the sport out, but she had to promise to take him to the ballet studio two towns over to insure that word didn't reach his friends in South Park about his 'girly' after school activity. Of course as soon as he was done his first practise he wanted to quit, but somehow his mom had convinced him to keep going and that he might learn to like it. He never did learn to like it however. But his mom still managed to convince him keep going, especially after she found out he was naturally gifted in the sport. Even now she kept him going to practise and competitions by telling him that as soon as he quit, as long as it wasn't from injury, she no longer had to keep his ballet a secret for him and could display all his awards, old outfits, and competition pictures around the house proudly for everyone that came over to see, instead of keeping them hidden in her own bedroom. But Kyle still hated ballet. He didn't care how good he was or how far he could go with his skills. He didn't have fun with it and he was constantly trying to hide his involvement in the sport from his friends, which was getting harder and harder to do. He was always making up excuses for why he had to go straight home, his dad and brother were always having to cover for him if one of his friends went over to his house looking for him and he wasn't home, it helped though that his practise schedule was almost completely random, and he had to try to make up good excuses for not hanging out with his friends on the weekend and for canceling dates with his boyfriend without seeming like a douche. On top of all that he had spent his whole life pretending he couldn't dance, and that he had no rhythm in him what-so-ever. It was just completely overwhelming and annoying for Kyle to keep up with all his excuses and lies, especially now that he was a teenager and all his friends were a good amount smarter than they were back when they were in elementary school.

Kyle stood by the car and waited for his angry mother to come out the ballet studio and unlock the car doors before tossing his bag in the back seat and getting into the front passenger seat. He'd learnt from experience that it was better for him to sit up front and take the heat from his mom when she was mad, rather than sit in the back and make it seem like he was trying to hide from the issue and didn't care that he'd done anything wrong.

Soon his mom was in the driver's seat beside him, starting the car. She backed out of her parking space quickly and made the car tiers screech on the road as she raced out of the parking lot and onto the town's streets. She drove recklessly, but the fact that they almost got into an accident several times didn't even faze Kyle. She'd driven angry and like this many times over the years without getting hit, so he figured she was probably pretty experienced with driving recklessly by now. Like usually his mom stayed quiet and concentrated on the road until they got out of the town and onto the highway where there weren't as many cars and obstacles, and then the fireworks flew. And they continued to fly with Kyle silently watching and listening, and making sure to show that he was paying full attention, until they reached their home in South Park and pulled into its driveway.


	3. Chapter 3

Before his mom's outdated car was even parked Kyle had his seatbelt undone and the car door unlocked, and before the car had even come to a full stop he had his bag from the back seat, the car door open, and was hopping out of the passenger seat and practically sprinting to his home's front door. When Kyle got into the house he didn't stop for anything. Not even to take off his shoes or say hi to his little brother, Ike, who'd gotten up from the sofa, where he'd been playing video games with a friend, to see who was at the door. Kyle just went straight for the stairs, practically shoving his dad out of the way, who was coming down them, as he ascended them and went to his room, slamming the door behind him.

The first thing Kyle noticed when he entered his room was how chilly it was, and the slight breeze coming from the window he thought he'd closed before leaving to ballet practise. The second thing he noticed was his boyfriend staring at him from where he lay on his bed, with a six pack of beers sitting beside him. "Kyle! Where the fuck have you been man?" Stan asked as he sat up and moved himself to sit at the edge of the bed, his words slurring slightly. "I came over here after school, after I stopped at home to get us some drinks, but you weren't here! I was thinking we could get a little drunk and have fun egging that dick Craig's house, or something, for calling you a fag during lunch, but I only have one can left because I got bored waiting for you and just kept drinking. Here it's yours." As he spoke Stan reached back into the pack of empty beers and pulled out the only full can left. He twisted the top off a little clumsily and held it out to Kyle. It took Kyle a few seconds to process what Stan had said, he was so shocked at his presence in his room and still angry at his mother that he'd missed part of what Stan had said, and the slight slurring of words didn't help, but when Kyle did understand he merely rolled his eyes angrily, threw his bag into the corner of the room, and took the bottle from Stan. He sat beside him on the bed and took a sip of the beer.

"So you're telling me you drank five bottles of beer because you were bored and they were there?" Kyle asked in a tone that was much more cross than needed. The lecture his mom had given him in the car had put him in a much sourer mood than he'd expected it to, and had completely counter acted the little angry outburst he'd had at the ballet studio. "Why didn't you just drink all six? Why even bother leaving one for me? If you're going to exceed the limit we agreed on you might as well go through the whole fucking case instead of stopping at one left! I mean, what's one more beer going to do right?"

"Fuck you, it was just two beers over my limit! No need to yell at me!" Stan snapped back at Kyle.

"Yeah, only two extra beers now! Next week it'll be four extra, and then six! I don't want you being a fucking alcoholic again! You're going to end up killing yourself!" As Kyle spoke he got up and stood over Stan, his beer bottle clenched tightly in one hand while the other hand was clenched in a fist.

"Wow dude," Stan said calmly now, putting his hands up in a sort of surrendering way. "Calm the fuck down. You're right, I'm sorry. But all this anger can't just be because of me drinking that damn beer. What the fuck's the matter with you?" Even though Stan was a little drunk he still had the ability to reason and read Kyle's face and actions. Stan had been way more drunk than he was now many times before, so although five beers had him slurring a few words and acting differently than normal he still had a some self control and reasoning in him.

"Nothing's the matter with me, it's you that has issues," Kyle said in almost a mumble, feeling a little taken aback by Stan backing down so easily. Yelling could be heard downstairs now that the two boys were speaking in quieter voices.

"Kyle I've known you for years dude. You don't care this much about little shit like me drinking two extra beers unless there's something else bugging you too," Stan told Kyle, reaching his hands out and placing them on his arms and rubbing them up and down for some kind of comfort.

"I pissed my mom off and she's been yelling at me for the past hour, ok? It's not that big of a deal," Kyle practically snapped at him.

"You're right, that isn't that big of a deal because your mom's a bitch," Stan said, moving his hand's from Kyle's arms and placing them on his hips as he stood up. He was about an inch taller than Kyle now and looked down at him into his eyes.

"She's not a bitch. I deserved to be yelled at," Kyle responded, tearing his eyes away from Stan's to glare at the floor.

"Either way," Stan said, leaning down slightly to kiss Kyle's neck. Kyle closed his eyes. "I know how I can help make you feel better." He spoke between kisses as he moved his hands to Kyle's jean zipper.

Kyle, having been lost in the feel of Stan's kisses on his neck and sucking on his jaw line, didn't realize what Stan was doing until he felt the other boy's finger slowly pushing his jeans down off of his hips. Kyle opened his eyes instantly and put his hand, that wasn't still holding the beer, on Stan's chest, pushing him away from him as he took a step back. Stan looked at him a little confused. "Stan I told you before, I don't want this right now. I just got out of a relationship with Kenny where all he did was get me to have sex with him whenever we were alone, or whenever we were having issues," Kyle said a little crossly, doing his jeans back up.

"I don't think a month ago is considered just getting out of a relationship," Stan said with a little frown. "And besides, you can't tell me you don't want it when your jeans are forming a tent over your crotch." At Stan's words Kyle's face lit up bright red and his expression turned to one of embarrassment. But he quickly turned his expression to angry.

"Just because I can't control when I'm turned on doesn't mean I actually want-" but Kyle couldn't finish getting angry at Stan again because the yelling coming from downstairs suddenly seem to be getting closer to his room and cut him off.

"Kyle Broflovski your father and I want a word with you!" came the crossed voice of Kyle's mother from on the stairs.

"Shit," Kyle exclaimed, looking at his bedroom door quickly before looking back at Stan. "You need to get out of here, and take all the beer bottles with you."

"Why do I have to leave? It's not like I haven't been in your room alone with you before. As far as they knew we're just best friends hanging out having a little chat," Stan said, stumbling back slightly has Kyle shoved his partially drank beer at him.

"You need to leave because one, you're fucking drunk dude and my parents think you've been sober for years now. Two, there are five beer bottles sitting on my bed and one in your hand, and if they see those and you drunk they're going to assume I've been drinking too and I don't need an underage drinking and religious lecture on top of the one I'm about to get. And three, if they happen see this bulge you gave me while you're here they're going to have some fucking questions," Kyle spoke quickly as he turned Stan around and pushed towards the window, collecting the pack of empty beers on their way over. He took the opened beer from Stan and put it into the case, and then handed the case back to him.

"Dude, I'm not climbing out your fucking window drunk. I'm going to fall and break my neck or something!" Stan protested, turning around to face Kyle again.

"Fuck, fine, get in the closet than," Kyle said hurriedly, pushing Stan into his open closet and closing the door on him. "And don't make any noise until I come get you," he ordered as he made a dash for his bed, picking his laptop up off the floor as he did. He sat down with his legs cross and his laptop sitting on top of them to hide his crotch, and turned his laptop on quickly to make it look like he was busy on it.

A few seconds later Kyle's bedroom door swung open and his parents barged in, closing the door behind them so as to not bother Ike and his friend with anymore yelling that would be going on. Kyle's parent's walked over to his bed and hovered over him with stern expressions on their faces, but Kyle didn't bother to look up at them. He just continued to stare at his laptop with an angry expression, making it look like he was doing things on it. Kyle's father cleared his throat once and when Kyle still didn't look up his mother slammed the laptop screen down, forcing Kyle to pull his fingers away from the keyboard and have the screen narrowly miss crushing them. "We heard you talking in here, who were you talking to?" Kyle's father asked. His tone didn't seem too harsh. It sounded more like he was pretending to be angry so that Sheila wouldn't turn on him and start yelling at him as well for not caring enough about Kyle's bad behavior.

Kyle closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I was talking to Bebe on the phone. She called me to yell at me for not showing up for the play rehearsal today," Kyle told his dad, thinking quickly. It was true that he was in the school play this year, and that they had a rehearsal today that he hadn't been able to attend because of ballet.

"Right, well, your mother and I have a few stern words for you about the way you've been acting lately," his father told him, and then Kyle's mother jumped into the conversation and the fireworks flew again, only this time there were twice as many and they were twice as loud.


End file.
